Page 62 of The Duke of Desire
“Hmmm, I don’t suppose your house is close by?”
Hell.“I am deeply flattered; however, I’m afraid I’m otherwise engaged.”
This time she actually pouted, her lips forming a rosebud moue. “I see. Pity.” She inhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes provocatively. “Well, if something changes, I’m at number twenty-two.”
She gave him a saucy smile and continued on her way. Her maid, who’d stood at a discreet distance, quickly followed behind her.
West made his way back to his town house, his mind churning. When was the last time he’d gone this long without intercourse? He couldn’t recall. And yet, he’d just turned down an obvious invitation to do just that.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t been physically attracted to Lady Lamberton. On the contrary, his body had felt an attraction for her. It just hadn’t extended to his brain. The idea of sex with her—with anyone who wasn’t Ivy—was distasteful.
Good Lord, what was happening to him?
The woman staring back from the mirror wasn’t Ivy. Well, it was, but it wasn’t an Ivy she recognized. Her red-gold hair was swept into an elegant, complicated style of braids and curls with pearls woven through the locks.
“Ah, don’t you look lovely,” Lady Dunn said, stepping into Ivy’s small bedchamber.
Aquilla grinned. “She does, doesn’t she?” She and Lucy had surprised Ivy earlier by bringing her a new ball gown and insisting that she allow Lady Dunn’s maid to dress her hair. Barkley had enjoyed every moment, since Lady Dunn never required such a style.
“She needs one more thing,” the viscountess said, making her way to Ivy with her halting gait. She wasn’t using her cane.
Ivy pivoted on the stool to address Lady Dunn. “Where is your cane?”
“Bah, I don’t need that right now. Focus on yourself for once, gel.” She presented a pearl necklace, lying in the palm of her hand. “You’ll wear this tonight.” She looked to Barkley, who plucked up the strand and went about fastening it around Ivy’s neck. “Now, you’re just right.”
Ivy turned to look at herself in the glass and was surprised to feel a rawness in her throat, as if she’d run outside in the freezing cold.
“She’s not just right, she’s radiant!” Aquilla declared.
“I agree,” Lady Dunn said softly. “Now let’s be on our way.” She hobbled from the room as Ivy stood.
She swept her hands over the rich blood-red silk of her gown. It was bold and daring, far more suitable for Lucy, but then she’d been the one to select the fabric. They’d done a fair job of approximating Ivy’s size, and Barkley had completed the last-minute alterations.
Lucy handed her ivory elbow-length kid gloves. “You just need these.”
The gloves were finer than any pair she’d ever owned, just like the dress. “I still don’t understand why you went to all this trouble.” Ivy had a horrible feeling they’d wanted her to look nicer now that they were countesses. But no, they weren’t that small-minded.
“Because we thought it would be fun,” Aquilla said. “How many times did we talk about being the belle of the ball? Now it’s your turn.”
Ivy tugged on the gloves. “But I don’t want to be the belle of the ball.” Once, long ago…she had. And now that she was garbed in such finery, for the first time she felt like she was. It was an odd sensation, for she was still fairly certain she didn’t deserve it. Furthermore, what was the point? She was like Cinderella. Tomorrow, she’d go back to being a companion in her dull gown and staid hairstyle.
Lucy was scrutinizing her, which made Ivy’s neck itch. She finished pulling on the second glove. “What is it?”
“Did we force you into something you don’t want?”
On the contrary. She was afraid they’d introduced her to something shewould.
Ivy looked at both of them and smiled. “No. You have the kindest of hearts, and I’m so grateful to have your friendship.”
Aquilla pulled on her gloves. “Then let us away. You have a ball to be belle of.”
When they arrived at the Assembly Rooms, Ivy accompanied Lady Dunn to the cardroom while Lucy and Dartfort and Aquilla and Sutton made their way to the ballroom.
After ensuring Lady Dunn was situated, Ivy glided into the ballroom, feeling as if she were in a dream. She’d been to dozens and dozens of balls over the years, but this one looked different. Which was nonsense. It was precisely thesame. It was she that was different.
Overhead, a thousand candles glimmered, casting a warm glow over the massive space. Music drifted down from the musicians’ gallery as people danced in lines along the length of the ballroom. Ivy hadn’t danced in years and doubted she ever would again.
She located Lucy and Aquilla.Theywere dancing. But Ivy didn’t feel bad about it. Even before they’d married, they’d occasionally danced. Ivy, on the other hand, as a companion, hadn’t ever been asked.
